Coping
by AladdinForever
Summary: Jillian is forced to attend Welton while dealing with her father's abandonment. Jillian/Neil POV switches. Set in the middle of the year - DPS is already formed.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dead Poets Society. I'd do anything for Neil, though :D**

I didn't know where to look. I couldn't look at my father's forced smile, or the imposing gates of my new school, or my millions of suitcases that I didn't even want to take with me. I couldn't look down, because that wouldn't show respect to my father. I couldn't look up, because the dark clouds gathering above my head made me feel like I was in a horror movie and would be eaten by zombies as soon as I walked through the doors. I couldn't look to the sides, either, because the open fields only reminded me of how alone I really was.

My eyes grew confused and slid out of focus. I hoped it didn't look like I was crying; I hated being weak.

My father awkwardly placed his hand on my shoulder. I didn't think this was how parents were supposed to treat their daughters. I had always imagined a lot of hugs when I thought of the perfect relationship between a father and his daughter. I fantasized about this a lot. There would be many tears, of course, when we parted. He wouldn't want to see me leave, and he wouldn't want to leave me. A father was supposed to be sad when his little chick finally left the nest, but mine seemed to look forward to it every waking hour.

"I'm sure you'll be very happy here, Jillian," my dad said.

"I'm sure I _would_ be," I retorted, "if I were a boy."

He seemed to internally wince. I took pleasure in this; it meant he actually felt something.

"Your uncle is very kind for making this happen. You should be grateful."

"That doesn't mean I _want_ to be here," I said. Starting this argument again was futile. We'd had it a thousand times; my dad was not about to back down right before he was finally able to get rid of me.

"Jillian."

I didn't say anything for a few minutes. We just stood there in silence. It was almost pleasant, this waiting period, this time when nothing was actually happening. I didn't have to remember, didn't have to think.

It was my dad who finally broke the silence by suggested that we go in. I gave him an annoyed glare then pick up my bags and walked toward Welton.

I didn't understand why we had to come in the evening. My dad had said it was so that no fuss was made by the boys about a girl finally being enrolled in the school. I told him that if we wanted to be discrete, shouldn't we have come in the day when the boys were in class, not when they were all gathered in their dorms doing homework? He had said that it was all figured out and I hoped that didn't mean anything out of the ordinary was happening because of my arrival.

It was bad enough that my mother was dead. It was bad enough was that my dad was abandoning me less than a year after her death. It was bad enough that he was causing me so much guilt for hating him for abandoning me. It was bad enough that I had to start a new school in the middle of the year, when everyone else had already made friends, including me – friends I, too, had to abandon. It was bad enough that the new school was a boarding school, because there was no one to look after me. But I had to draw the line when he suggested – no, insisted – that I go to the all-boys boarding school Welton, in the middle of nowhere.

Unfortunately I had nothing to draw the line with. Like all family relationships, the children had no power, but unlike most, my father didn't care at all about what I thought.

We walked through the doors and I caught my breath, expecting the worst. It was surprisingly empty, however, and a pit formed in my stomach. I wondered where everyone was.

I whispered my concerns to my father.

"Don't worry, Jillian," he said, giving me an affectionate nod. Only to my father could a nod be affectionate. I didn't think I had ever seen him really, truly smile. "It's being taken care of."

"What does that _mean_?" I said.

"Mr. Nolan is addressing the student body as we speak. By the time he ends, you will be in your room, ready to make a great impression first thing in the morning."

I groaned. So much for not making a big deal out of things.

* * *

We all filed in to the theater one by one and took our seats. No one knew what this was about, what we were doing here. Mr. Nolan had told us about the assembly once before, but he never said what it was for.

"_There will be an impromptu meeting two Tuesdays from now at 6:00." Pause. "Sharp. It will be required." Another pause. Silence. "No one is in trouble."_

_Nolan looked quickly at Mr. Walker. "That is all. I will see all of you then."_

We had thought about it for the first few days, constantly wondering what it was about. Then we had forgotten about it, as our interest subsided with time and we figured that if it could wait a couple of weeks then it wasn't very important, right? This attitude took us up to Tuesday night at 5:45, when Meeks burst into Todd and my room and said that we should probably hurry up because he didn't want to get in trouble with Mr. Nolan.

"Hurry up for what?" I asked casually as I pulled on a shirt. "I need to finish Trig."

"The meeting, moron," Meeks said. "Come on!"

Charlie appeared behind Meeks and motioned for us to follow. I vaguely remembered Mr. Nolan's announcement a few weeks prior.

Todd and I quickly followed Charlie and Meeks. Cameron, Pitts, and Knox were waiting outside for us and we walked to the assembly hall.

At 6:01, Mr. Nolan began his speech. I could tell he had been working on it for the past few days. He probably practiced in front of a mirror every night to get his speeches just right.

"As you all know, Welton is a fine preparatory school. A fine one. One of the reasons we have had such outstanding successes in previous years is our level of commitment, discipline, and resources."

I snorted. Nolan had probably worked for days just to make the sentence "The boys here do so well because they get whacked for anything less, and their parents pay us huge amounts of money for it" sound nice.

"Another reason is the attention the boys pay to their studies. There are no distractions to take that attention away from the academics of Welton."

I sat up straighter. There was only one thing that Nolan could mean by that…

"What I mean to say, boys, is that the reason that so many of you do well is because for nine months out of the year, you are not distracted by the opposite gender."

There was a flurry of excitement.

"However, for this upcoming semester we have made a small exception."

Everyone started talking at once.

"Quiet!" Nolan shouted angrily. "Please, allow me to finish."

We became silent again.

"All of you know Mr. Walker, our senior science teacher. His niece, Jillian, was a senior at Henley High School. She is now a senior at Welton." He paused, as if daring us to talk. "Jillian's mother died recently. I will say no more on that matter, as it is her option to discuss it. She has been living with her father for the past few months, but unfortunately, he has recently been involved in a charity foundation that will transfer him to a third-world country for an unknown period of time."

He stopped talking and looked at all of us.

"Mr. Walker – after consulting with the school, of course – has generously suggested that Jillian enroll in Welton for the semester until she goes to college. I know that this seems very surprising, but this can only mean good things for the school. Her father has also made a rather large donation that will go to our arts program."

We stared expectantly at Nolan.

"Jillian is already in her dorm unpacking. She will be living in the boy's hall but will of course have her own room."

There was a rather long pause in his speech. Nolan leaned forward and his glasses slid forward slightly.

"I cannot imagine what it would be like to start a new school in the middle of the year with no one of your gender. I don't even have to ask, but please, make her feel welcome. Thank you."

Nolan sat down and we filed out again.

"Come on, Neil, let's go meet this _Jillian_," Charlie said to me as we walked out.

"I don't think so, Charlie," I said. "It's already 6:30 and I haven't even started Trig. And we don't even know where she's staying. I say we wake up early and see her then."

"Don't be a wimp, Neil. There's only one empty dorm and you know it."

I did know it. It was right across the hall from mine.

"Leave it alone, Charlie. You'll meet this girl tomorrow."


	2. Chapter 2

I had a really tough time falling asleep that night. All I could think about was how all the boys were thinking about me. They were wondering what I looked like, how I acted, if I was smart or stupid or sexy or ugly or if I would even consider any of them.

I had that feeling of dread that I got in m stomach when my mom forced me to join the soccer team even though I hated team sports. I managed to talk my way out of that one. I could never talk my dad out of anything.

I was suddenly hit with the reality of my situation. I had accepted that I would never see my mom again, but at times it randomly occurred to me, and it was like finding out for the first time all over again. But this new situation was different. It added a whole new level of anxiety and stress that I didn't think my skin could handle and my terrible sleeping habits would not help in the least.

I fell asleep in this state. At least I could blame all my new problems on my father, which was satisfying.

I woke up feeling fresh and chipper, which annoyed the hell out of me. I would have liked to have woken up with a killer headache feeling like crap, so I could pinpoint my terrible day on my dad. But unfortunately I felt okay, so I figured I should make the most of it.

I put on my uniform – the same thing as the boys', but with a skirt. I had been wondering if they would force me to wear pants, same as the boys, or something more feminine.

I liked the idea of pants better. I had never liked skirts anyways, and I just wanted to fit in here. But my dad had thought otherwise.

"_Jillian, you are not here to pretend to be a boy. You are here as a girl who just happens to go to a boy's school."_

_I nodded in agreement like I had thought that all along and he nodded back. There were no hugs exchanged. Big surprise._

As I walked down to breakfast – "7:00. Sharp." – the lump in my throat got bigger and bigger. How would I do this? Just walk in? Where would I sit? Who would I sit with? I contemplated turning around and just skipping breakfast, but my dad's words lingered. "You'll be ready to make a great impression first thing in the morning." He would be so disappointed…

I opened the doors as quietly as possible. Apparently "7:00 sharp" meant "get here earlier than that or else all the good food will be taken", because the boys were all happily eating and yelling to each other, spraying food everywhere. I only found this a bit disgusting – okay, so my friends and I were pretty much the same way – and I was glad that the attention was not turned towards me.

As soon as the first boy spotted me, however, that all changed. It was silent for a second and then the whispers began. I felt horribly uncomfortable and as I sat down at an empty table by myself, I was half relieved and half disappointed that no one joined me.

* * *

We all noticed her of course. I could hear it in the loud whispers that floated across the room. She seemed pretty enough, I thought, but she hid behind her hair so it was hard to tell. She didn't say anything to anyone and sat down alone, which I thought was kind of weird before I remembered that she didn't know anyone. I kept expecting someone to stand up and walk up to her, but no one did. I was half expecting myself to do so as well – I was ready for my legs to stand up and walk over to her on their own, but they never did. I was disappointed in them, really – I never would have been able to do it myself, not while my brain was fully functioning.

"I'm going over there," Charlie announced with a flourish. I was sure she'd heard it; she looked up and her pigtails flew away from her face. She had rather large eyes that met mine for a fraction of a second before she smiled and turned away. My heart fluttered and I reached over to grab Charlie's arm.

"No you're not," I said.

"Come on, Neil," he said, grinning. "It's not like you will."

"Give her some space, Charlie. She just got here."

"Don't you think she wants someone to comfort her in this time of need?"

"I don't think it needs to be you."

He didn't say anything. I didn't think I had really insulted him, but I was scared that I had kind of hurt his feelings.

"Come on, Charlie, you know what I mean." He looked at me. "Look at you. You'll scare her off."

"That's not true," he said, but he sat back down.

We laughed at him and continued eating.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: Sorry if this is confusing or anything. Basically if there's a line, or a new chapter started, it's a switch from the Point of View of Jillian to Neil, or vice versa. I figured by the language and plot it would be easy to tell who was talking.**

My life sucked. It really did. So far I had made no friends. I hadn't even talked to anyone, and it was already halfway through the day.

I wasn't expecting school to be hard. I loved English and Math even though you never saw people like both of them so much at the same time. History could be really interesting if I had a good teacher, which I did. Science could be a problem but my uncle was the teacher so I wasn't worried. My only problem seemed to be Latin. I had never taken it, but Nolan insisted that I take a senior class to interact with as few people as possible, which I thought was stupid. My only consolation was that everyone else seemed to suck at it as well, so I really wasn't too far behind.

By Trig I had probably made eye contact with fewer than five people. I hated showing this shy side of myself. I usually thought of myself as very brave and assertive, but I had never been very comfortable around guys and in new situations. Part of me tried to convince myself that as I was the only girl, I had the upper hand. The other part realized that being the new girl, I was at everyone else's mercy. I hoped to find a happy medium but I didn't know if one existed.

"Miss Walker."

I was interrupted from my thoughts as I approached Mr. Hamm, the Trig teacher, at his desk.

"Yes sir?" I asked in my sweetest voice.

"Have you ever studied trigonometry before?" he asked.

"Of course," I answered honestly. "I loved it."

I realized how much of a suck-up I sounded like and I hoped that no one had heard me.

"Really?" He sounded impressed.

"Yes," I said. After a short pause I realized that I had nothing else to say. "Yes."

"Well then, hopefully you'll be either ahead or at the same place as this class." His voice was gruff. Okay. Maybe not so impressed.

"Yes. Thank you."

"You may sit."

"Thank you."

What was I thanking him for? I had no idea. God, I sounded like an idiot. I turned around and walked to my seat. I pried my eyes from the ground and made it a point to look at every boy I passed straight in the eye. But when I sat down, I couldn't remember any of the faces.

Well, it was a step.

* * *

Had the new girl really just said she loved Trig? So she was not only unattainable, but crazy as well. For most of us math was the bane of our existence.

"Maybe she can tutor me," Charlie smiled. "I mean, she'll be in my room all the time and all."

"Shut up, Charlie," I said, grinning. I hoped that the girl – Jillian, I really needed to start using her real name – hadn't heard. Not everyone at Welton was as sex-driven as him, but I had a feeling that Charlie would scare her away.

As Jillian walked back towards her seat she made it a point to look at every boy she passed, which I thought was cute. Was it just me or did she stop for a second after looking at me? She didn't pause when she passed anyone else. Maybe she remembered me. Her hair was bunched up on the two sides of her head in pigtails that flowed to her shoulders – her hair was brunette and wavy and kind of messy and when it moved just right it exposed the spark of her earrings. Her smile was really cute as well – really full lips that were perfectly pink even though I could tell she hadn't put anything on them.

As I headed to Latin I couldn't stop thinking about her. Jillian. The name was pretty, elegant, cute and fun but also formal. It had been so long since I had seen a girl my own age, one that I would see on a daily basis, one that could _possibly_ turn into something more.

Then again, I was probably just being crazy. One girl in a school of a hundred boys. Obviously nothing was going to happen between us.

This internal conversation continued up until I walked into Latin and took my seat. I was still spacing out as Mr. Jones, our Latin teacher, called up Jillian to introduce her to the class. I still wasn't paying much attention, until I heard my own name.

"Yes?" I said, shaking my thoughts away as if Mr. Jones could somehow have read them.

"Mr. Perry, you are the only person in this class to have an A. Am I correct?"

"I believe so, sir," I answered, blushing. My father was always telling me to be proud of my achievements, but I found it so embarrassing to be called out personally, even for something good.

I didn't look at Meeks, who was probably blushing just as much, if not more, than I was. He deserved an A, he really did, but Latin just didn't come to him as all his other subjects did. I felt bad for actually being better than him at something.

"Good, good," Mr. Jones said, more to himself than to me. "Good. You will be assigned to tutor Miss – ummm…"

"Walker. Jillian Walker," Jillian mumbled.

"Yes, yes, of course," Mr. Jones went on. "Mr. Perry, you will tutor Miss Walker until she is caught up on the curriculum."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't.

Mr. Jones noticed my silence. "I know you have a lot to do, Mr. Perry," he said, with only a touch of sympathy. "But this is very important and we must be accommodating to our new students. Thank you."


	4. Chapter 4

Oh God. This was so embarrassing. Mr. Perry – I didn't know his first name, which made it that much worse – didn't want to tutor me. I could tell. He looked dumbstruck at having to spend any time with me.

"That's okay, Mr. Jones," I said hurriedly, trying to escape from this nightmare. "I can figure it out for myself." Mr. Jones laughed at me.

"Miss – uh – Walker. You are aware that in order to stay at Welton you have to do _reasonably_ well in all classes?"

I nodded. I found it slightly embarrassing for this fact to be stated in front of the entire class, but I figured my situation really couldn't get much worse.

"And you believe that you can do _reasonably_ well in this class with no extra help?"

I nodded again, slowly this time.

Mr. Jones laughed again. "My dear girl," he said to me, still grinning at some stupid joke only he found funny. My cheeks burned knowing that he was teasing me, taunting me in front of the entire class. "My dear girl, you can not _reasonably_ expect to do well in this class without any outside help?" He looked at me incredulously, half like he was seriously interested in my opinion, and half like whatever I said would be terribly stupid.

So I said nothing.

"My dear girl," he repeated (I gritted my teeth at this, like pointing out my gender was somehow an insult), "I am sure that you are incredibly intelligent, but Latin is memorization as well as understanding. You have to catch up on a semester's worth of material – as well as the years of Latin that these boys have had – while keeping up with this class. Can you _reasonably_ expect to do that yourself?"

I shook my head silently.

"What's that?"

Anger surged through me. I knew he was right, of course. I would need a tutor. But it was the fact that he wasn't even considering what I wanted, that he had made me stand up here like a fool…

"No, sir," I told him. "No. I cannot _reasonably_ expect to do _reasonably_ well in this class without any outside help. Then again, I'm a girl, so how _reasonable_ could I possibly be?" I paused and looked at everyone. I paused on Mr. Perry, my new tutor. "And I would love it if Mr. Perry was my tutor," I continued. "I'm sure that with a little bit of extra help, I will not only do _reasonably _well in your class, but excel, as I'm planning on doing in every other class, classes in which I may _also_ be behind."

Mr. Jones said nothing. There was absolute silence, which horrified me. This happened sometimes. I would get so angry that I would just explode, be it at a friend or a teacher or a parent. Normally I could keep my anger under control, but this new level of stress and frustration had gotten the better of me. It may have not been so bad, either, had I not been in an entirely new environment, one in which I was trying to keep a low profile. My dad's voice floated through my mind – _"You'll be ready to make a great impression first thing in the morning."_

I walked back to my seat. My outburst had felt good. I didn't like being shy and socially awkward. I liked being loud and noticed. But under these circumstances – more guilt weighed me down and I didn't say anything for the entire lesson.

As we walked to English – the last class of the day, thank God – I noticed that the boys were all looking at me, like they were trying to figure out what I'd do next. I gave a few some half-hearted smiles and tried to make eye contact with as many as possible, but I still felt out of place. Maybe once I learned some peoples' names, and started recognizing them, I would feel more… at home. I didn't know if this was possible, but I figured I'd give it a try. _Dinner_, I told myself. _At dinner, I'll socialize._

* * *

My first thought was that she had looked at me. She had looked me straight in the eye and said that she wanted me to be her tutor. The fact that this was said out of spite was not important. What was important was that she wanted me…to tutor her, of course.

My second thought was that she was really cute when she was angry. Her cheeks got redder than usual and her long wavy hair flapped around a bit. Sometimes she would hastily thrust her hand through it as if to control the tangles, but it just made it worse, and it just made her cuter.

My third thought was that she was also crazier than I had known. Blowing up at Mr. Jones? She was going to get in a lot of trouble. I actually cared about her, kind of, which surprised me. I guess that could be considered my fourth thought, if anyone was counting.

This is about Jillian, by the way.

As we walked out of Latin and to English, she smiled politely at a few people but didn't say anything. Charlie had walked on ahead, so I figured this was the perfect opportunity to introduce myself.

I walked up to her and extended my hand. "Hi. I'm… uh… I'm Neil."

She looked at me strangely for a second, as if I had two heads but only she noticed it.

"Mr. Perry. I was wondering what your first name was." She smiled and I went weak at the knees.

"Yeah. It's – it's pretty formal around here. I guess." I trailed off. She looked at me again like that, like she was reading my thoughts and was taking immense entertainment in them. I looked at my feet. They were moving without me knowing about it. Jillian seemed to be directing me to English class, which I thought was strange, but it turned out she was just following the crowd of boys.

"Look, you don't have to tutor me if you don't want to," she blurted. It was the first time I'd seen her look vulnerable. Uncomfortable, yes, but vulnerable, no. "I mean, I know you have your own classes to worry about without having to teach someone else, and I mean… well, I saw the look on your face when you found out you would have to tutor me, and… well, you obviously don't want to, so don't feel obligated or anything." She said this all in a rush like she was in a hurry to get it out.

Oh no. Jillian must have mistaken my look of dumbfounded ecstasy for dumbfounded horror. But how could I tell her that it was what I had been looking forward to all day? I couldn't. I couldn't give myself up like that.

"Trust me," I said. "I'm happy to do it. I'll see you at six, okay?"

She nodded.


	5. Chapter 5

I didn't believe him. Not totally.

I mean, what guy goes from horror to "I'm totally happy to do it"? It was so fake.

But then Neil gave me the most adorable smile, and all my concerns melted away. I rode that smile all the way through English class. Mr. Keating was very cool, very cool indeed, but if it hadn't been for that smile, I don't think I would have been in a good enough mood to last me the period.

As it were, however, the class was amazing. Everyone seemed so passionate, so full of life at the prospect of poetry and words and living deliberately and all that. Especially Neil and his friends, I couldn't help but notice. I could tell Neil was really into it. He smiled a lot more than in Latin or Trig and his eyes twinkled and his face lit up when we talked about Shakespeare.

Mr. Keating was hilarious as well. The boys seemed to really respond to him, which I thought was strange but cool at the same time.

I was back in my room by four o'clock. Science and history homework was done by five thirty, which left me half an hour to get ready for Neil coming over. Not that I was eager to see him, or anything, but I wanted to look… presentable. I hadn't gotten any English homework and I wasn't worried about Trig. I would start that after I had done Latin.

I took a shower and washed my hair. I put on a bit of mascara as well, even though I normally didn't wear makeup. The girls at my old school used to tell me that I looked better natural, but the girls there were always trying to tear each other down, so I never knew whether to believe them or not.

At six o'clock, my Latin notebook was open and the textbook had been marked with pieces of paper – which sections I didn't understand and which I was okay with. At 6:05, the books had been moved onto the bed. It didn't mean anything. It was just… more comfortable.

At 6:10, I remembered that his dorm was just across the hall from mine. _He could at least tell me he couldn't make it_, I thought.

At 6:15, I started my Trig.

I had never been stood up before, but then again, I had never been asked out before, so I'd never really gotten the opportunity. Not that this was a date or anything. But I figured it would feel the same – like you hadn't been a big enough priority for the person to come, or even call. Like you didn't matter.

Okay. Maybe I was overreacting. But still. I was a seventeen-year-old girl who had never been on a date with a guy, and was thrust into a school of all boys, and the first boy who had made plans to come to my room had ditched me.

The good mood I'd had all day vanished.

* * *

**Six-Forty: Forty Minutes Late**

Okay, so I was excited. I mean, I knew it wasn't a date or anything. I was just tutoring her. But still. This was the first time in a long time that I would be alone in a room with a girl. A really pretty girl as well.

_This might turn into something more_, I said to myself. I was hoping it would.

I put on some good clothes and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked nice and clean, I thought, which was good. I didn't want to look _too_ nice, however. I didn't want to look like I cared too much.

Charlie had come into my room earlier and said that Jillian wanted me to come at seven, not six. I was kind of disappointed. For one thing, it meant that she wasn't really eager to see me. For another, it meant that she had come to Charlie before she came to me, like she didn't want to talk to me directly.

But still. If she was debating between me and Charlie, there was still plenty of time for me to sway her opinion toward me. Not that it was a competition or anything.

I was still five minutes early. I didn't want to seem like I was looking forward to it or anything, but I had nothing else to do… I walked across the hall and came to her room.

I knocked on her door.

"Who is it?" called a voice from inside. My heart pounded.

"Uh, Neil," I answered. "Sorry if you're not ready…"

There seemed to be a long pause, but maybe I was imagining it.

"Okay, uh, Neil, just give me a second." She sounded confused. There was a thud and the sound of a large object being moved across the floor. Another pause. She came to the door and unlocked it.

I stared at her. She was wearing the same thing as she had that day, but with a few tweaks. Her shirt was pulled tight against her skin and she wore her skirt up higher, to her waist, exposing more of her thighs. It looked as though she had tried to make her hair nice, but it had gotten messy again. I didn't mind.

She must have noticed me staring at her, because she blushed and turned away.

"So…" I said awkwardly. "Do you want to work on Latin?"

She looked at me in that special way again, but she wasn't smiling. She was genuinely confused.

"Sorry. I, uh, already finished it."

"But… I thought – I thought I was supposed to tutor you."

Scenes from every movie flashed into my head. The only thing ever keeping lovers apart was miscommunication. But I didn't know where it was here.

"You _were_," she said. I detected traces of anger in her voice. I didn't want her blowing up at me like she did at Mr. Jones. "But you were _late_."

"Seven o'clock," I said. "Charlie told me…" I stopped. Jillian looked at me, wonderingly, and I quickly explained to her what Charlie had told me.

"_Oh, Neil," Charlie said, looking smug. "I talked to Jillian."_

"_Oh, really?" I asked._

"_Yes. She said to tell you that she wants your little tutoring session moved to seven, not six."_

"_Did she say why?"_

"_I can't remember. I didn't pay too much attention. I was staring at her…"_

I stopped there, but it was too late. Jillian looked embarrassed.

"I – uh, I never talked to Charlie. I don't even know who he is."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I had all these notes and things to help me… help you, I guess. I thought I was on time."

"Don't worry about it," she said. "It's okay. I got done with some other homework as well."

"So you finished Latin?"

She blushed. "Well, no, not really… I just said that so… I don't know."

I knew. It made perfect sense. I would have done the same thing.

"Listen, why don't I help you with Latin anyways? I'm sorry for ditching you – I mean, it must have felt that way to you, I guess, even though it wasn't intentional. But I could help you. Latin's pretty hard, you know, and…"

I was babbling. Jillian was looking at me, amused. I stopped.

"Well, if you really want to…" she smiled.

I was just about to say some funny, sweet, and witty comment when the dinner bell rang.

"Oh," I said. "I totally forgot about dinner."

Jillian seemed to find this hilarious. I laughed as well.

"Do you want to head down to dinner… with me?" I asked.

Jillian smiled, but it seemed kind of half-hearted. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Oh, it's nothing." I raised my eyebrows. "I mean, I just – well, this will sound stupid, but I kind of made a promise to myself that I'd actually talk to people, and… well, I don't know. I'm not really looking forward to it." She blushed.

"Come on, Jillian," I told her. I put my hand over hers. She blushed even redder. My face felt warm. "There are a hundred guys out there who can't wait to meet you. To hear what you have to say, to see you, to see a real _girl_ for once." She smiled. "Don't worry about this." She still looked unconvinced. "Here, how about this. You'll sit by me. I'll introduce you to my friends. They all live in this hall, so you'll essentially be meeting your neighbors – and your classmates."

She smiled again, warmer this time. I realized that I loved her smile. It was the smile that I could wake up in the morning to see.

"I can't wait," she said, and I believed her.


	6. Chapter 6

Oh my God. Did that seriously just happen? Did Neil just put his hand over mine? He was being so nice… and I totally believed him about Charlie lying to him. I was going to steer clear of Charlie.

But Neil. Neil. I kept replaying the scene in my head. His adorable smile. The way he looked straight at me when he spoke. The way he was confidant but was also kind of shy and embarrassed.

And yeah, I liked that I could make a guy nervous. I had never really been liked by a guy before. I thought that I was pretty, but I wasn't really sexy or anything, like a lot of the girls at my old school. And why would a guy put in the effort to get to know me if he was only after one thing?

But Neil was different. I could tell. Maybe not Charlie or any of the other boys, but Neil was.

"So…" I smiled at Neil. He was so awkward. Awkward and cute.

He smiled back. "So…"

I didn't say anything. I liked the silence. I almost wanted to hold his hand or something, like in the movies when the boy and the girl walk together and their hands start to touch but then pull away then again until they get closer and closer together.

I pushed that thought out of my head with a much more rational one – the fact that I had known Neil for… what? A day? And I was already thinking about us holding hands… I mean, I had to have a real conversation with him first.

I stopped and turned to him, about to say some random thing off the top of my head, which probably would have made me look like an idiot. Fortunately, Neil had the same idea. He stopped and turned towards me. "Do you… do you want to come to our study group tonight?"

"Study group," I repeated, smiling. There had been a few "study groups" at my last school as well, though people rarely got anything done.

Neil seemed to sense what I was getting at.

"No," he said, but he was smiling as well. "No, we really do study. Meeks makes sure of that. I mean, we talk about… other stuff… as well."

"Like?" I asked. I moved closer to him. I could smell his hair. He nudged me in the shoulder.

"Like… Knox and Chris and Chet."

"Chris and Chet? As in, Henley High's famous couple Chris and Chet?"

"You know them?"

"_Know_ them? Everyone knows them. Someone says 'relationship', or 'couple', or 'boyfriend and girlfriend', or 'perfect for each other', you think Chris and Chet." She seemed a bit angry.

"Well Knox is in love with her."

"Chris? You can't be serious. He's too good for her."

"You haven't even met him yet."

"I still know. Anyone would be too good for her, including Chet Danbury and I don't even _like_ him."

Neil looked at me. "What's up with you?" he asked. I looked away.

"Nothing," I answered. "And…I'd love to come to your study group tonight. No matter what you guys talk about."

Neil looked excited, and I couldn't help be excited with him. His smile lit up his face and I literally felt my heart thump a hundred beats per minute more than it should have.

Okay. Dinner might not be so bad.

* * *

We pushed open the doors to the dinner hall together. We walked together as people stared. We sat down together, got food together, laughed together. It was perfect. I felt like people were starting to notice Jillian in a good way, not just as the only girl there, or a sex symbol. Not that she was a sex symbol or anything. She was really pretty and pretty hot, but she wasn't flaunting what she had or anything. I almost got the feeling that she wanted to be a guy, to fade into the background. She had modestly pulled down her skirt and loosened her shirt so her… front… didn't seem so obvious. I was a little disappointed. I liked looking at her when she was dressed up.

I noticed Charlie waltz up to our table. He slid across from Jillian. "Charlie Dalton," he said slickly. I laughed.

Jillian extended her hand. "Jillian Walker," she said. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Only good things, I hope."

"Unfortunately, no," Jillian said. "Though I thank you postponing my Latin homework. It was quite difficult. Fortunately I had Neil there to help me. He's an excellent tutor." She looked at me and I smiled back.

Charlie didn't look worried. "Oh, right, Neil, our conversation. Sorry about that."

"Why would you do that?" I asked. "What did you hope to accomplish by making me late for my tutoring session?"

Jillian got up, mumbling something about using the restroom.

Charlie leaned in to me. "I just didn't want a girl to come between us, Neil. We've been friends for years. I don't want Jillian… distracting you from your friends."

"Is that code for _you_ wanting her?" I asked.

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Of course it is, Neil. But still. I don't want you distracted from your studies just because she has a nice… chest area." He swirled his finger around his collarbone.

"A little lower, Charlie. Point a bit lower."

"So you _have_ noticed her!"

It was my time to roll my eyes. "Seriously, Charlie, I really like Jillian. I really do. And she already thinks you're a creep." Charlie looked taken aback. "I invited her to the study group tonight. We'll see how it goes."

Charlie looked shocked. "Not the… Dead Poets meeting?" he said.

"No," I said firmly. "Just the study group." Charlie looked relieved. "But I don't know," I continued. "I think she might be Dead Poet material."

"We'll see how it goes," Charlie repeated. "Let's just see how it goes."

I didn't feel the need to remind him that his stint as Nuwanda, when he brought two girls to the cave and wrote a letter to Nolan asking for girls at Welton, almost got us all expelled.

Jillian returned just as Todd, Knox, Meeks, Cameron, and Pitts came to sit down. They looked surprised that Jillian was joining us, but they didn't say anything. I was grateful for this. I didn't need my friends asking the girl I liked why exactly she was sitting with me.

"Oh, Jillian, this is Todd, Knox, Meeks, Cameron, and Pitts." I pointed out each boy. "Guys, this is Jillian."

"We know," squeaked Cameron. I wondered if he had ever seen a girl before. Jillian smiled.

"Jillian's gonna join us tonight," I said. "For a study group."

"Cool," Pitts said, grinning. I hoped he was just being friendly – not _too_ friendly or anything. I wondered if it was obvious if I liked her. I wondered if she liked me. I wondered what we looked like to other people. Then I realized that I was doing a lot of wondering and not enough just plain _doing_. It was time to take action.

"Yeah, I'm really looking forward to it." Jillian seemed relieved at their approval. I searched for a double meaning to her words but couldn't find any that would signify her being interested in any of them. Unfortunately, this included me, but I wasn't _too_ worried. Jillian had a way of being elusive about what she really meant, which I really liked about her. Too bad this meant that I had no idea what was going on in her head.


	7. Chapter 7

**Note: This chapter might be a bit confusing. It's mostly about Jillian's past, so a lot of it isn't happening now. It's kind of… heavy, too, I guess.**

So many thoughts were running through my head, but one was in a clear lead. He was racing across the track, looking humble and completely cute as he dashed across the finish line. I immediately pushed all thoughts of studying and other boys out of my head and focused on Neil.

"Jillian's gonna join us tonight." It sounded casual but maybe there was something more to it? An eagerness that was jumping out of his mouth, the "I Can't Wait" feeling that a young boy felt on Christmas Eve, unable to fall asleep, as drowsiness overcame him but his eyes flitted open every time he heard a noise and he wondered, "Could it be? Is it really him?"

It seemed arrogant to compare Neil's improbable crush on me to a boy's joy of receiving presents only once a year, as if I was the best thing that could ever happen to him, but honestly, that was how I felt so where was the harm?

Who was I fooling? I knew the harm in it perfectly well. I knew exactly where the harm lay. I could shoot an arrow at it with incredible precision, slitting it wide open. I had experienced the hurt quite well, thank you. Firsthand. Thank you Chet Danbury – or rather, his girlfriend Chris. Thank you very much.

It had happened last year. I was a junior. The compromise of finally reaching upperclassmanship but also being dwarfed by seniors ran through me. I was proud and arrogant but lowly and humble. It was a terrible place for me. I didn't bode well with non-specific areas. I was an extremist, mostly. I could handle being the lowest of the low. I was good at it. Quiet, charming in my own way. The kind of girl who could mix in with the trees, or the pavement, or the ugly beige of high school hallways. I flitted in between people, moving from nothingness to nothingness, as a freshman and a sophomore. Most people would think this was humiliating or degrading. But the truth was, I was happy. While with my friends I was loud and boisterous. I was charming in a completely different way. If you knew me you liked me; if you didn't, you wouldn't notice me.

I thought that once I was finally able to be an upperclassman, the real me, the loud and boisterous me, the me who didn't go unnoticed, who received smiles and some second looks from guys, sometimes, and maybe even a rose on Valentine's Day – maybe it was that girl's time to shine. But I was wrong. I had miscalculated the intentions of the seniors. In previous grades, I hadn't dealt with them. But now they were in my classes, friends with some friends of friends and undeniably linked to me, but not by friendship. I was uncomfortable. I forgot who to be and I wasn't anybody. People say that junior year is their best year but that certainly wasn't the case with me.

Two things happened that year: my mom died, and I fell in love.

I mean, there were other things, too – unimportant, trivial things that looking back I don't care about. I won the school spelling bee. My first article was accepted into the school newspaper. I dyed my hair purple, and even though it only lasted for a week, for those five days I was radiant, happy as could be.

Then my mom was diagnosed with leukemia.

We found out after she fainted in the grocery store and was taken to the hospital. My dad showed no emotion but I cried for hours. I cried because I didn't know what was wrong, then I cried because I did. My dad didn't shed a tear. I wanted to lash out at him for that, for not wanting to save her, for not caring. But some rational part of me knew that he did. That he did love her, that he did care for her. That was why he stayed by her bedside all of that first day and all of that first night. He stayed awake the whole night without a drop of caffeine. I didn't know how he did it, but part of me did know, I guess. It was the grief. Knowing that if you close your eyes, the seconds could tick by without you being aware and in one of those seconds she could be gone, flitting away like a butterfly leaving the prison that was her cocoon, and you would never see her again.

"Six months," the doctors told us. "Six months."

I told myself that in those six months I wouldn't smile. I wouldn't laugh. If someone told a joke I would claim it wasn't funny. If someone scored a winning goal I wouldn't cheer. And if someone mentioned my mom… I didn't know what I'd do. Thankfully it never came up.

My plan was succeeding for about three months. My mom got worse and worse. The doctors tried to help but they knew it was futile. "If we'd diagnosed it earlier…" they kept saying. "If we'd known…" I tried to blame it on my dad but it was hard at first. I guess I got better at it over the year because soon I was blaming him for everything.

Then, about three months into the diagnosis, I met Chet Danbury. He was the definition of cliché, you could say – football star, blonde haired and extremely good-looking. He wasn't too bright but he was sweet.

I hated myself for liking him. I hated myself for smiling when he was around, for laughing at his lame jokes, for wanting to touch his hair even though my mom's was falling out. But he made me happy. He really did.

In the month that followed, I talked to him every day. We didn't date, and he didn't kiss me, which I thought was disappointing but I always knew in my gut that it wouldn't have been right. I thought I wanted him to, but I never really did. But that didn't stop me from being in love with him.

I didn't tell him about my mom and he never asked about her. He never came to my house to meet my parents and I didn't want him to.

We were hanging out after school one afternoon, talking and laughing and watching the cheerleaders fall from their pyramids like someone had blown up a building from the inside. They landed softly on the mats and even though it looked like it hurt a bit I had no sympathy for them.

We parted that day with a simple "goodbye" and "I'll see you tomorrow". I lay awake at night thinking of him. It was a typical day, but that's not to say it wasn't magical as always.

That morning I met Chet at our meeting place before school. But he didn't have his backpack with him. His hair and clothes were rumpled and he had tears staining his face. I instinctively hugged him and asked, "What's wrong?"

Chet looked at me. There was such sorrow, such pain in his eyes. "My mom..." he mumbled weakly.

I clenched my jaw. "What happened?"

He was whispering now. "A drunk driver… she didn't even see it coming…" he gasped and I forced away his words so they didn't reach my ears but I managed to hear him say his final words before he burst into tears: "…she's gone…"

I couldn't say anything. I backed up, looking at him, looking at the guy I had loved for a month now and had still not told about my mom. My mouth opened but no words came out. "I'm sorry" bounced along my brain and throat but didn't leave my lips. It wasn't true. I was angry and selfish but it wasn't true.

"Do you even care?" he asked me, his voice loud. He wasn't yelling, but he would reach that level soon, I knew it. I still couldn't say anything. "Do you even care!" There it was. I didn't move. "You have _no_ idea what I'm going through and you can't even say anything!" I stood there and stared at him. "I hate you!" he yelled at me. I crumbled to the ground as my legs gave way beneath me. He left me there, then, a look of disgust on his face, tears streaking down his cheeks. I was on my knees on the cold, hard pavement, but I wasn't crying or beating the ground with my fist. I was just sitting there in Chet's and my misery combined.

He started dating Chris the next day. She shot me looks of disgust and anger and hate whenever I passed her but I kept my head down low. Whatever communication Chet may have wanted to keep with me was cut off by her. She said that she wanted Chet to be happy but I didn't think that was right; I think she just wanted Chet for herself. I hated her. I hated her perfect hair and nails and her perfect life and I wished it was her with the deadline for her death and not my mom.

I told my mom my troubles. I cried over her frail body as she lay there, helpless in the face of my heartbreak. I didn't even know that she was listening until she died, two months before the doctors said she would.

"We misinterpreted the signs," they said. "Just didn't realize that she had so little time to live." But I knew that wasn't true. I knew that if I had come in there smiling and happy, she probably would have lived a year longer than she was supposed to. But I couldn't live a lie, not even for my mom.

When my mom died, word got around school. I knew that Chet heard. He approached me more than once, almost as if to apologize, but I didn't need him to say sorry. In truth, I didn't know what I wanted from him. But it didn't matter, because he never said anything and after a few weeks of this, he never approached me again. I knew Chris was behind it but I was too depressed to care.

So yes, I knew the pain of heartbreak. I knew the consequences and I knew the causes. But that didn't mean I could control my feelings, I knew that too. I knew it well enough not to try to act against them. And so I accepted that Neil might not like me back, but I was ready to admit that I liked him.

Okay, maybe not to him. But to myself, at least.


	8. Chapter 8

**Note: I realized after I wrote the last chapter that Chet Danbury's mom wasn't dead in the movie. However, I think that this was so minor a detail that it really doesn't matter. I mean, Mr. Danbury could have remarried or something. Plus, I've changed so many other things around, right? I mean, shouldn't Neil be dead by now? So I don't think it matters too much.**

I first noticed that Jillian's mind was somewhere… well, not in the dining hall when she tried to bite down on her glass of water. I hoped that she was thinking about me, or at least not some other guy that she was interested in. A boyfriend from Henley High? It was possible. She'd never really disclosed any information about her love life. But I doubted it. She didn't seem the type. I couldn't imagine her with a boyfriend.

But then I thought back to us – me and her, sitting and laughing. I could picture that easily. I wondered what people would think of us dating. I wondered if she was allowed to date. It didn't seem like the kind of rule that Nolan would make. He tended to skirt around bigger issues, things that made him uncomfortable. The way he saw it, if he didn't bring it up, the idea probably wouldn't occur to us. Seventeen year old boys – what did we know? How could we possibly think of something so original, so wrong, that it would require a rule to stop us from doing it? To him we were four year old boys up until we did something wrong. Then we became seventeen year olds again, because his punishments wouldn't probably leave a four year old sobbing or in the emergency room.

No, Nolan probably didn't forbid Jillian to date. But I couldn't rule out other things standing in our way. For one, if there even was an "us". Or if Jillian would give up her life free of "distractions" to date me. If she was interested in anyone else. If she had a boyfriend. If anyone else here might be competing for her attention.

I was looking forward to the study session tonight. I would have been happier had it just been us, but I had screwed that up for tonight so I would work with what I had. I tried to imagine how Jillian would fit in: she would probably laugh and smile a lot, like she did when she was around my friends. She would try to get some work done but everyone was hopeless with Latin except me so we would probably have to work by ourselves, which I was fine with. She would probably help Knox or Todd with Trig – maybe Charlie, if he was acting extra charming.

I thought through the night. Study session until about nine. Then maybe I could bring Jillian to my room and we could work on Latin together. Then I'd fall asleep dreaming about her, and her smile, and her eyes, and that smirk she only uses on me, and… oh. The Meeting. I'd totally forgotten.

I always looked forward to our Dead Poets meetings. For me, they were the only source of life in my dull, boring existence. Mr. Keating was right – I didn't want to be confined to this everyday routine. I wanted to go out and _make_ something of myself. I knew I did. And the only way to really express that was in the cave.

But now there was another source of life, an energy, a heartbeat thumping near mine, so close I could hear it, so close I could feel the body heat radiating off the body. I could live off of that body heat, live off that smile and that heartbeat.

Jillian allowed me to express myself without having to say anything. The jealousy, the warmth riding up my cheeks, the subtle act of putting my hand over hers – that was feeling, emotion I wasn't allowed to let out in my mundane life.

I wanted Jillian with me at the meetings. I wanted her opinion of the poems I had written. I wanted her approval of what we were doing. I wanted her to tell me that this was such a great idea, this Dead Poets Society, and that I was what she had always wanted – someone who cared enough about life not to let it slip away.

And who knew? Maybe she was Dead Poet material.

* * *

I met Neil in his room for the study group. I still wasn't sure how much I could possibly get done if no one else in the class understood Latin enough to get an A, but I figured it would be good to socialize and make the school a little smaller. If that was possible. I mean, I came from a huge public high school to an all boys boarding school. How much smaller could you get?

"So, Jillian," Charlie said to me, his voice dripping with charm. "How are you enjoying Hell-ton so far?"

"Clever," I told him. "And I actually don't mind it here. It's different, but… it's nice. It's a challenge, I suppose, and I'm always up for a new challenge."

I had revealed too much about myself, I realized. It was just a transition question; Charlie didn't actually care about my thoughts. He just wanted to be able to move smoothly into a conversation that would lead to me falling madly in love with him or something – or at least get me into his bed. I knew how guys these days thought. And unfortunately I had given him the perfect transition.

"Well, Jillian, it seems we have something in common."

I raised my eyebrows. He continued: "See, I too, love a good challenge. Important matters, trivial matters – if it's difficult, I'm on it." He smiled widely. "I sense that there's something else connecting us, however. A bond. A special bond. I think that our love of facing challenges will soon lead us to face the challenge of exposing our feelings for each other – and winning each others' hearts."

"I don't think that winning your heart would be too difficult," I said.

"Would you want to test that theory?"

"Not now," I said. "I've got some other matters to attend to." I tried to turn away but Charlie stepped in front of me, a smirk on his face.

"Another man?" he said, a look of mock-dramatic distress on his face. "You have feelings for another? How could this be?"

"I never said that," I said. My heart was thumping wildly. "Besides if I did, it would be none of your business." I looked at him, daring him to speak, but he just opened his textbook like he hadn't really cared all along.

"Jillian," he said. "Are we going to get started on homework or what?" I smiled and sat down. That was when I realized something – Charlie actually wasn't a bad guy. In fact, I think we could be friends.

We continued like this for an hour – chatting and laughing and doing homework. _I could get used to this_, I thought.


	9. Chapter 9

**Note: Sorry it's kind of long, and it's all in Neil's POV, it doesn't switch to Jillian. There's probably a lot of unnecessary details but that's just my writing style. Be sure to read to the end – stuff **_**actually**_** starts to happen! :D I'm working on a new chapter so be ready for that – I just wanted to get this in beforehand!**

It was midnight. I lay awake, listening to the ticks of my clock that I knew no one else heard except a select few – the Dead Poets Society. I was comforted knowing that Nolan was asleep, that the other boys were asleep, even that Jillian was asleep. It was this nice time when there was nothing but silence, nothing but the irregular breathing of Todd next to me that let me know that he was awake as well. But neither of us said anything. That's why I liked having Todd as a roommate. The silence. There wasn't a need to talk pointlessly. I think all of us – the Society – understood that words were sacred, that they were meant to communicate elegantly and – as Mr. Keating put it – to woo women (I wouldn't mind trying it on Jillian).

I felt the door open – the soft creaking of the door that my ears weren't tuned enough to hear, but that my nerves could somehow feel through the vibrations through the floor. I felt Charlie's footsteps and made out his dark shape. "Neil," he whispered. "Neil, come on."

I got up and tiptoed to the door. Todd was getting up as well and we met the rest of the Society in the hall.

"We thought you guys were sleeping in there," Knox smiled.

"No," I answered as we quietly slipped down the stairs. "Just thinking."

No one asked me about what, which I appreciated but was also suspicious about.

We reached the cave in about a half hour, Knox lightly touching his head against the rock ceiling as we walked in.

"I hereby call this meeting of the Dead Poets Society to order," I said, opening the large leathery book gingerly to make sure it didn't fall open. I read the opening passage for the hundredth time, and yet it still sent shivers up my spine. "I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately," I said, my voice soft and yet you could hear it perfectly in the silent cave. "I wanted to live deep and suck all the marrow of life." You could drop a pin on the ground. "To put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived." My voice cracked and fell to a whisper with the last few words, like it always did.

"Here, here," Charlie said quietly, the way he always did when he was thinking. You could tell that he was thinking about something important, too, the way his bushy eyebrows, usually raised and carefree, were furrowed in thought and confusion.

The rest of the night passed in silence. Well, it wasn't total silence, exactly, but there were long pauses where nothing was said. Then someone would recite a poem he had written, and it would make my hands feel tingly with the passion of his words and emotion.

"Did you bring anything to share, Neil?" Charlie asked me. His words weren't harsh at all, the same way that we weren't harsh when he recited a poem about a naked woman on the inside of a magazine. Okay, maybe we laughed, a little, but it was our first meeting and a lot had changed since then.

"No, not this week," I answered.

"No inspiration?" Meeks muttered bitterly. That's what Mr. Keating had told him about his poem. To be fair, Mr. Keating was not wrong and he wasn't mean about it – "It just lacked that fiery passion that marks the difference between a poet and a… lawyer, for example." Meeks balled his fists and tried not to point out the obvious detail that he would become a lawyer no matter how much passion ran through his veins. Mr. Keating's class didn't work that way.

"No," I said. "Plenty of inspiration. It's just… it never came out right, you know? Nothing seemed good enough."

I looked at the faces of my friends, who nodded along with me – not in pity, but in agreement. We all agreed that Mr. Keating's class was the most difficult because he was the teacher who we cared about impressing the most. We all agreed that writing poems was harder than taking tests or writing papers. We all agreed that we had to do something with our lives, something that Mr. Keating had told us, something to release our passion. But we also all agreed that we didn't know how to do that just yet.

Someone checked his watch and we hazily determined that it was time to go. The cave made our thoughts all warbled and we weren't thinking straight. We blew out the pipes that we had lit but smoked about one time each, each boy too distracted by his own thoughts. The walk to school was shorter than the walk to the cave and it seemed like only five minutes later I was lying in bed, ready for sleep yet afraid to close my eyes, afraid my moment would slip away…

I awoke to daylight streaming through the window that Todd had had time to open. I looked around. I must have overslept or something. Flashbacks of last night's dreams flooded my vision but I pushed them out, focused on getting dressed and making it to breakfast before all the food was gone, in about three minutes.

I slipped into the hall just as Jillian came out of her room. She looked even more frazzled than usual, her book bag slung awkwardly over her shoulders and landing somewhere by her back, a pencil tucked behind one ear, papers about to fly out of her hands. It was a miracle that we didn't collide, as I was so hurried as well.

"Hey," she said. I blushed, but she wasn't looking at me – she was preoccupied with stuffing her loose papers into her bag.

"Hey," I answered, and she looked up and met my eyes.

"Sleep in late?" she asked, breaking the somewhat uncomfortable silence. We stood like statues facing each other, the issue of breakfast temporarily forgotten.

"I must've," I said. "I woke up and Todd was gone… I wish he had woken me up or something."

"Yeah," she agreed absentmindedly. A memory of a dream from last night came to me – Jillian, sitting propped up on the pillows of my bed. She was wearing her school uniform, but her skirt was pulled up even higher than when we had our tutoring session and her tights ended right above the knee. It was an outfit I knew she would never wear, but I didn't mind it. Her messy hair got in front of her face and she shook it away, exposing those eyes that I couldn't stop staring at…

"Do you want to head down to breakfast with me?" she asked.

"Sounds great," I replied. "I'm starving."

The weeks went by like this – Jillian and I met each morning and headed to breakfast together. We went to classes, we studied together, I tutored her in Latin (though she was becoming so good I feared she wouldn't need my help in a few weeks), then we ate dinner. This routine, this friendship, this undeniable bond that was forming between us, lasted about four weeks. As our friendship strengthened, so did the possibility of her actually _liking_ me – and so I held on to the hope that this could become something more.

Then, five weeks into me knowing Jillian, two things happened.

One, Charlie showed how great a friend he was. And two, so did Jillian.

"Neil," Charlie whispered to me at lunch, motioning towards the bathroom. I followed him to the men's room (they were all men's rooms, I supposed, except for a few private bathrooms for Jillian) and quietly closed the door.

"Why are we talking in the bathroom?" I asked Charlie, my voice echoing. "I thought only girls did that."

"Like you would know," he couldn't help but add, and I smiled at him.

"Listen," he told me. "I just wanted to tell you something, but you're always hanging out with Jillian and I thought…"

"Something about Jillian?" I cut him off. "Like what? You're not…?"

"No, no," he said, and some part of me breathed a sigh of relief at the fact that Charlie wasn't interested in Jillian. We made fun of him for failing often when trying to "woo women", as Mr. Keating would call it, but the truth was, he hit the mark just as often. Charlie had irresistible charm and charisma – I had a dream of becoming an actor and a father who wanted me to be a doctor. That's all I classified my life as – as far as I knew, I could have zero personality.

"So what?" I asked.

"Listen, Neil, I just wanted to tell you that… I think she might like you… as, like, more than a friend."

I'll admit, I was a bit confused. Excited, suspicious, but mostly confused.

"Jillian? Really?"

"I've seen the way she looks at you. For a couple of weeks now – well, really since she started here."

"But… how?" I don't think I was even speaking in complete sentences.

"Just the way she laughs when you tell a joke, and the way she nudges your shoulder, and the way she blushes when you come into a room… I don't know," he concluded. "It just seems… I would, you know, give it a shot."

"Thanks, Charlie," I said. "Thanks."

We rejoined our friends at lunch, and while I acted the same as before, as if I'd never left the table, my eyes flitted occasionally to Jillian, and whenever we made eye contact, all kinds of butterflies would fill my stomach.

That night we sat in my room reviewing Latin for a test tomorrow. There was a lapse in the conversation as Jillian silently reviewed some notes I made her.

"Jillian," I said.

She looked up. "Yes?"

"How…" I think I may have been about to ask "How would you like to go out with me sometime?" but who knows what I was thinking? All I ended up asking was "How exactly did you end up here at Welton?"

She looked surprised, as if it was weird that I was asking her now of all time, but almost as if she never expected anyone to ask her at all.

"My mom died last year," she said, with a calm face that I thought she was struggling to keep. "And my dad… well, I never really had a great relationship with him anyways." She laughed. "He taught me to smoke, you know that? Cigars. Age sixteen, right after Mom died. He always wanted a boy. I guess smoking was kind of a manly thing to do. I never liked it. You'd think after my mom… well, it doesn't matter. It's not like I ever took it up." I felt ashamed for a second, thinking of how we smoked pipes in the caves like pretend-men. "Then he got an offer from this charity organization that he's been a part of for a while now… to go halfway around the world to volunteer in some third world country or whatever. I don't know the details."

She looked like she was about to cry so I put her head on my shoulder. "Sorry about asking," I whispered, but she just shook her head.

"No," she said, wiping her tears and lifting her head from my shoulder. "I haven't told anyone yet… it feels good to get it out."

I nodded weakly, wondering if me being the first person to whom she was divulging these secrets had something to do with Charlie's theory.

"I mean, it's a great opportunity," she said. "But… I don't know. I hate him for leaving me right after my mom died, you know? Couldn't he have just stuck around for a little while longer while I adjusted? It's bad enough leaving me without any parents, but having just experienced a death? I don't know, it just didn't seem right."

I nodded in agreement.

"So I told this to him, and he was like, 'You're absolutely right. You need family around you, to get you through this.' So he sends me to my uncle, my only living relative. That's why I couldn't go to a girl's school or anything. I hate to live with my uncle to help me cope."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't be," she said. "It's not your fault is it? It's not anyone's fault."

"How did she die?"

Jillian hesitated for a second, then simply said, "Car accident."

I didn't say anything to that.

"So do you think you understand this chapter pretty well?" I asked after an uncomfortably long silence.

She didn't answer. She seemed to be contemplating something. Then, without warning, she sat up taller and touched her lips to mine. Then she sat back down again.

I was speechless. I couldn't say anything. I couldn't feel my hands or feet. I heard a faint hum in my ears. I looked at her, unsure of what to do, but she was already packing up.

She gave me a small, sad smile as she exited, as if to say, "Sorry about that. I guess I misread the signs." I wanted to call after her but I was glued to my bed.

As the door gently closed shut, I touched my fingers to my lips and smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

**As I write this, I'm watching House. I get tingles whenever Wilson comes on :D**

I lay in bed thinking about the thing I had just done. Oh God. Obviously Neil didn't feel that way… then again, maybe he was just shocked? I hoped it was the latter and that Neil and I would reconcile later. At the very least I wanted to retain our friendship.

It wasn't a kiss. I didn't think so, at least. I had never been kissed before, which I thought was weird, like I was a genetic mutation, a freak. All the girls at school talked about how far they had been with a guy, what they had done, and all I could do was listen and think, "I'm the same age as them. Why haven't I done half the things they have?" I desperately searched my brain for a time when I was kissed, a memory long forgotten or buried somewhere, but none came. Seventh grade, when I went to a camp where I knew no one. Surely something must have happened there. But no, I remember nothing except for being stuck in the middle of the lake in a canoe that I didn't know how to manage. School dances? Awkward, at the very least. Mostly I just stayed home as other girls danced and made out with other guys. I had long ago decided that I was a freak of nature and I should give up on guys because obviously it was never going to happen.

And then _that_ happened. I mean, yes, it wasn't a kiss. It was more like a touching of lips. Like handholding or a hug. We were just touching. I thought it was nice – tender, sweet. But maybe it could turn into something more.

I flipped through my Latin notes but I was obviously distracted. I eventually gave up on Latin and closed my book in an act of defiance.

I got up from my bed and reached under it, pulling out my guitar. It was teal and shiny with thick strings and a clear sound that was almost always off-key. I lay the strap across my shoulder and strummed it with my fingers, the calluses on my fingers immune to the pain of the strings.

After about five minutes of this mindless sound, Neil walked into the room. His footsteps were almost silent; the only thing that gave him away was the quiet creaking of the door opening.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey," he replied. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," I answered, and he sat on the foot of my bed, twiddling his thumbs so awkwardly I had to stifle a laugh.

"That's a pretty guitar," he said after a while. "A bit out of tune, though."

"I like it that way," I said. "It's not perfect, you know?"

He didn't say anything.

"Look, Jillian," he finally said. "When… when that happened back in my room… it's not that I didn't _want_ to react… I just _couldn't_. I was so surprised…"

I nodded. "I don't think I was fully aware of anything either," I said. "It just sort of… happened."

"Definitely," he agreed. "It just caught me off guard, you know?"

"No, totally," I said. "Let's just forget it ever happened."

"Yeah," he said. "Wait, what?"

"Ummm… we could just put it behind us," I said. "I mean, we're friends."

"Oh."

I paused. "Unless…" I began just as Neil said, "I mean…"

"You go," I said.

"I just… well, I was thinking that if you wanted, we wouldn't have to forget it," he said. "I mean, these last few weeks have been really fun, really great, and I was thinking that maybe we could…" He trailed off and I smiled.

"Listen, Neil," I began. "I really like you. Like, really like you. You're smart and funny and sweet and passionate and, well, I get nervous every time I see you."

I was just about to say something else – like, maybe that Nolan had forbidden me from getting distracted by any of the boys – when he swooped down and put his lips against mine. I was pretty sure – okay, positive – that this was actually a kiss. Plus it was better than the first one because a boy had instigated it, which was way more impressive to girls than you being the one to start it.

He leaned on my chest and I fell back against my pillows. He was really kissing me now, and I was pretty sure I was kissing him back. He brought his hands to my hair and I did the same, tangling my fingers in his hair.

I wasn't quite sure what I was doing, but it felt good. I guess part of what felt so good was the fact that it was Neil. Neil was the one who had helped me get through these past few weeks at a new school. Neil was the one who I woke up every morning just to see. Neil was the one who made me laugh at the stupidest of things, the one whose passion made me feel so alive and spirited. And now he was the one who was actually interested in me, whose heart beat faster when I approached him, whose lips were now pressed against mine? It was too good to be true, to pleasurable to be good for me, and too confusing to ever be pleasurable. And yet it was all those things, everything. I dug deeper and he followed suit, until both of us were so tired and so filled with passion that we had to stop and look at each other.

Neil blushed and smiled that adorable smile.

"Wow," he said. "That was…"

"Unexpected," I filled in. "Confusing. Weird."

"Wonderful," he added, and I nodded.

"Wonderful," I agreed.

"I'm so glad… that you finally did something," he said. "That _I_ finally did something."

I nodded, smiling. "I know. I don't know if I could have stood another second without… telling you how I feel."

The dinner bell rang.

"I should go," he said. "Get changed."

"See you at dinner," I said, putting my guitar – which I had propped neatly against the bed – into my case and sliding it under my bed.

"Are you not allowed to have that?" he asked me, looking at the bottom of my bed where my guitar case now lay.

"Not really," I admitted. "But it was the only thing I really wanted to bring. I had to sneak it into one my dozens of suitcases. It wasn't hard, really."

"So rebellious," he smiled. "Listen – a few of the guys and I – Charlie, Knox, Todd, Pitts, Cameron, Meeks – well, we kind of have this club going – the Dead Poets Society, we call it."

I must have looked skeptical.

"It's kind of against the rules," he said, rushing his words like he wanted to get everything out. "We almost got in trouble once. But we meet at night in this cave."

_Why are you telling me this?_ I wanted to ask, but instead it came out as, "What do you guys do?"

"We read poetry, mostly. We talk about things… life… love." He smiled.

"Knox doesn't love Chris," I said. "He just thinks he does."

Neil seemed surprised at that, and I then realized what he meant. "I didn't mean Knox and Chris," he said. "Just in general."

"That sounds interesting," I said.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come tonight."

I was surprised, but I was kind of expecting it as well. "Have you asked the other boys yet?"

"No, but they won't mind. Charlie brought two girls a few months ago – tried to pass off Shakespeare as his own."

I laughed. "But just because he did it then doesn't mean you didn't mind."

He laughed with me. "They won't mind," he assured me. "Trust me."

I vaguely remembered him telling me to trust him before. It was possibly the best decision I'd ever made in my life.

"Okay," I said. "Sounds great."


	11. Chapter 11

I made sure to be out in the hall early that night to meet Jillian before other boys got there. As we locked eyes and smiled at each other, it felt so casual – normal – that I forgot it was twelve o'clock at night.

"I'm glad you decided to come," I told her.

"Yeah," she said. "Me too."

That's when the other boys got there so we didn't have time to continue our conversation, though I doubted we would have had much to say.

"Jillian," Charlie said, surprised. I wanted to kick him.

"Charlie," she replied.

"What are you doing here?"

"Umm, Neil invited me," she said.

"Cool," he said. "Shall we go?"

I gave him a grateful smile and we continued to the cave.

My limbs felt so numb from Jillian being there that I didn't register the cold, just the darkness. The fog. The beams of light from our flashlights, cutting through the blackness like a knife. The smell of Jillian next to me. The tenseness in between my shoulder blades, not wanting to trip and embarrass myself. Her body heat. Her light step on the crunchy leaves, as if anyone could actually hear us. Memories flashed in between the blackness and what I guess you could call visions but I guess you could also call hypothetical situations flashed in between them. Memories of her, and me, and me pressed against her and her hands and my hands and I wasn't even sure who was who anymore. And then the visions. Oh God. I almost regretted inviting her to the cave. What if she laughed? At our club, at what I had written, at the things we talked about. What if she rolled her eyes and sighed and called us immature or stupid what asked us why we were just sitting there and talking when back at school I was still at the mercy of my father.

As we reached the cave and went inside and sat down and as I read the opening passage and probably did a lot more little things that I never think twice about, I couldn't stop thinking about her. Jillian. The name came to my head every time I had nothing else in it. It was like a chalkboard and whenever it was wiped clean my hand just instinctively reached up and wrote her name. Sometimes I doodled on the side of the chalkboard as well, writing down major important information but always in the margins, the sides, the empty blackness I would scrawl her name with hearts and stars. I wanted to say it out loud. I wanted to taste her name on my lips.

Perhaps this is why I did what I did next. One second I was closing the book and Knox was stepping forward and reciting another poem about Chris and the next second I was reaching over and grabbing her hand and trying to intertwine my fingers with hers.

Except for one small problem: her hands were clenched into tiny balled up fists and her legs were shaking. She didn't need my hand, she needed my entire arm. I didn't know why she got so worked up with Knox around, or whenever he mentioned Chris and Chet. I didn't know anything about her and yet I lay my arm over her shoulder and she put her head on _my_ shoulder and Charlie looked at me and made some obscene gesture but I didn't even care.

Then all of a sudden I was standing up and pulling a worn down sheet of paper out of my back pocket that had words written on it and I was taking a deep breath and reading them and staring at Jillian as I did so, and hoping that she knew it was for her, it was all for her:

"_I don't know where or when I first saw her. In my head she was rain, she was wind, she was that deep shade of purple that I couldn't create with a thousand different paint colors. It could have been in the pastoral farms of Germany or a hot air balloon ride over Switzerland or a carnival ride in a small town in the middle of nowhere. She could have been a circus freak, beautiful and lightning, or a small pale frail human baby who transformed overnight to something larger than life itself. We could have met in the middle of dance if that's possible or flying which seems even more unlikely. It could have been a forbidden romance or an arranged marriage or just two random strangers meeting. I don't quite know. All I know is that with one look my heart jumped straight out of my chest and I spent the next month trying to keep in under control, wrestling with it behind closed doors with a picture of a tidal wave pinned up on my wall because she was everything."_

That's when I breathed and saw her smiling.

**Note: Yeah. It's kind of weird. I'm not quite sure how Neil writes because we've never really heard a poem from him, have we? That was kind of weird to write. But I hope you like it.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Okay so I realize this kind of changes style a little bit… it's been a while since I've written so I've lost the feel of how I used to write… :D**

Okay, so he didn't say he loved me. But that didn't stop my heart from pounding like a thousand beats per second. I was pretty sure that "she is everything" is a pretty good substitution. And that adorable smile and that blush that crept up his neck while he was talking. Ugh. I needed to shake myself away from this dream and snap back into reality. Oh wait. This was reality.

I climbed into my bed that night with nothing but Neil on my brain. All memories that I suppose had to fad at some point but until then would remain rock solid in my head ready to be replayed constantly. His lips. His hair. His smile. His hands. His chest.

The next few weeks passed in this blissful trance. Every night I would dream of Neil. I would wake up, get dressed up, put on a bit more mascara than I might have used before I met him, then walked out to the hall to meet him for breakfast. We would touch hands – which, I'm happy to report, became less awkward and more like actually hand-holding as the days went by – and walk down the hall, sit together at breakfast, go to class together, eat lunch and dinner together, sit in my room and talk and do homework, and then he would leave and I would sleep, dreaming of him.

Yes. An amazing system.

Occasionally I would accompany him to a Dead Poets meeting, but I still didn't feel totally close to other boys. The meetings were interesting and inspiring, but I'm sure that the boys were happier when I wasn't there. Not because they didn't enjoy my company (in fact, they probably were growing accustomed to me seeing as I spent every waking moment with Neil and started bearing a little bit more skin), but because of the conversations they could have.

I'm sure they're meetings went a little something like this:

NEIL: (reads opening statement)

CHARLIE: So, Neil, have you hit that yet?

NEIL: Shut up, Dalton.

CHARLIE: Come on, Neil. Something must have happened already.

NEIL: We're taking it slow.

CHARLIE: And why exactly would you do that?

NEIL: I really like this girl, Charlie. I'm not going to sacrifice this relationship.

Or at least that's kind of what I hoped went on. There were a few other possibilities, such as:

the boys discussing how ugly and not good I was for Neil

Neil joining in on the vulgarity

But I knew Neil wasn't like that. Yet.

* * *

I knew what Jillian was probably thinking. It was unrealistic to think that the stunt I pulled before – well, perhaps stunt isn't quite the right word seeing as I unleashed the powerful force of words into a poetic description of my emotions, as I liked to think of it – would last more than a few weeks. The awkward hand-touching wasn't enough to fuel the fire. And now, with Jillian not coming to the meetings, I could see where her imagination would run wild. She seemed like the type to invent all sorts of scenarios. The worst part was, each scenario she imagined probably happened at one meeting or another.

Charlie, being Charlie, assumed immediately after I read that letter that we were sleeping together. What a joke. I would never force that on Jillian, I would never bring it up. Well never was strong word, like your parents always told you "hate" was, but at least "hate" you were sure about. Never – well, nothing was forever and I was pretty sure that age 17 my view would change rapidly.

* * *

_Dear Isobel,_

_I need to talk to you. I mean, we don't live too far away now do we? I could bike over to Henley High after school or something… or maybe you could come here… It's an emergency, I swear, though. Remember all those books we consumed about secret relationships? Well I'm living one of them. Weird, I know, right? You were always the one with the flock of guys around her. But going to an all boys' school changes things I suppose. But anyways it's not a bunch of guys, just one. His name is – well, I won't write it here just in case you decide to do some preliminary research like you always do. (Asking around won't help, by the way – he's got an amazing record and everyone loves him.) Problem? Including me and I don't know how to tell him. Okay, it's dinner and I have to go but write back or just show up, I'm not picky. You may even meet a guy here. I have the perfect guy for you, as well – whose name I also won't share with you because_

_Ah I have to go._

_xoxo_

_Jillian_

I pulled the piece of paper out of the typewriter and tucked it into an envelope, sticking it in the outbox outside my dorm on my way to dinner.

Isobel was my best – which, in m case, just means "only" – friend from Henley, but she was so sweet and amazing. The only problem was that everyone loved her, leaving me to be left behind, but I didn't mind so much. I needed to talk to her.

I mean, I was living a lie. Nolan had told me specifically not to date anyone, and now Neil and I were practically a couple, to those who knew about us. And who didn't? This kid who I barely knew came up to me and Neil one day and told us we looked "Hallmark card cute". I took it as a compliment even though he wrote a three page article for the newspaper trashing consumerism and corporations.

I went to the meeting that night because I needed to vent (which I did symbolically through a poem I wrote in my spare time). I was hoping that because I was there the conversation would drift away from me and Neil (or at least the more vulgar stuff). Unfortunately it drifted in the direction of Knox and his romance with Chris.

I hate to be a buzz kill but Knox didn't _have_ a relationship with Chris. I decided to tell him this. I, of course, let him down lightly.

"Knox," I began. "I have known Chris for what, like nine years? She is the most conceited, shallow person you will ever meet. You have no chance with her. She's just stringing you along, seeing how far she can take you."

I realized this sounded harsh, and was about to apologize, when Knox interrupted.

"Oh and I suppose she and Chet are like the perfect couple," he retorted. "They have no problems. She's so happy with that idiot…"

"He is NOT an idiot," I said, and I guess no one was expecting that because everyone, including Neil, looked at me incredulously.

"I just…"

"Don't think I have a chance?" Knox asked.

"That's not what I was going to say," I answered, "but frankly, I don't. She'll never leave Chet."

"Why not? She's obviously stringing him along, from the way you've described it, so why not?"

I sighed. "She's doing this – you, Chet, everything – to get back at me."

There was silence.

"Of course," Knox finally said. "Of course, Chris is going to all this trouble to get back at you. It's all about you." Sarcasm dripped from his words. "You know, you're losing your credibility here. I've met Chris and she didn't come off as sociopathic to me."

"I never said she was a sociopath," I said, quickly losing my patience. "You don't have to listen to me, but she's made my life hell for the pat nine years and hasn't showed any signs of stopping. Hell, I go to an all boys' school now. I left behind my entire life at Henley. And I'm _still_ hearing about her. I don't even _see_ her and I'm still dealing with her stupid drama. And you know what? I'm done. You can get your heart broken. See if I care. She's already broken mine so what more can she do to me?"

I walked to the cave door to leave then turned back. "Oh wait. Now all the guys are going to be mad at me… and I go to an all guys' school! Looks like she is getting to me." With that I left, heading back through the now familiar woods and into my bed. I could have sworn I heard Neil call to me, but maybe I just wanted to hear his voice.

I didn't dream about him that night, but I guess every girl needs her alone time.


	13. Chapter 13

I'd like to say that we made up the day after. I'd like to say that I got a good night sleep, woke up, met her in the hall, had a deep conversation about needs and wants and our relationship, and then we went to my room to make out.

Then again, I'd also like to say that I've stood up to my dad at least once in my entire life. I'd like to say that I was still editor of the paper, that I understood science, and that I wasn't still a virgin.

I'd like to say a lot of things that will probably never be true, especially considering the fact that Jillian and I did not act out the picturesque scene I kept playing in my mind.

I went out to the hall at our usual time and waited. Five minutes later, I was still waiting. After ten minutes I knocked lightly on her door.

"Hey, everything okay in there?" I called cautiously.

"Uhh, yeah," Jillian answered, as if debating whether or not she wanted to speak to me. "I overslept, that's all. You can head down if you want. I'm almost ready."

"Nah, I'll wait," I said, leaning against the wall. "I'm not too hungry."

"No, seriously, go on ahead," she urged. "I'm meeting my friend, so I won't be able to eat breakfast with you anyways."

"Um, okay," I said. "Yeah. I'll… I'll go down."

"See you soon!" she promised, though it sounded like she just wanted to get rid of me.

I walked down to breakfast by myself, replaying last night's conversation – or, as I liked to think of it, _incident_ – in my head. What had I done wrong? I felt like there was something that Jillian was keeping from me, but I didn't want to pry. I liked her a lot, and anything to lose her – well, it would be extremely awkward, for one, and two – I had gotten to the point in our relationship where I didn't know if I would be able to go on without her.

I hadn't told her I loved her, but I may as well have. I mean, the feelings were out there, right? I just hadn't voiced them yet. It was moving right along. I just hoped we were on the same page.

I stood in line alone awkwardly. What had I done before Jillian and I started going out? My hand felt around the air for her fingers, but they weren't there. Where was I supposed to put my arm, then? It didn't serve a purpose. I let it swing by my side.

"Yes, yes, Dr. Quinton. We have only the best and the brightest at Welton. Or rather, only the best and the brightest survive the four years."

There was a bellow of laughter from in front of me. Nolan was in line for the buffet in front of me, laughing and talking with some guy in a suit that I think would have been fancy by my dad's standards.

"And I'm told you're opening your doors to… women?" The stranger looked at Nolan.

Nolan laughed a little nervously. "Not women, plural," he said. "Just one. Quite a nice girl, tragic story – no where else to go. It's a temporary thing, really – a semester. And she's proven to be quite an asset to the school, with very few distractions. It's a win-win situation, really."

"Ah, yes," the stranger agreed. Pause. "Why, exactly, was she let in? I'm sorry, but inspections you know… got to be a valid reason for everything."

"No, no, I understand. Not a big deal at all. The poor girl – her mother died last year, and…"

"Sorry to interrupt," the stranger said, pulling out a notebook and pen. "Really sorry. But just let me jot this down. And, um, the cause of the mother's death? What did you say again?"

Neil, a fly on the wall, decided not to point out that Nolan hadn't mentioned it in the first place.

"A sore subject really, I would advise not to bring it up with Miss Walker," Nolan began. "But it was about a year ago that the woman was diagnosed with leukemia. Terrible business. But they survived – got to hand it to Jillian and her father – they survived. No treatments really… just a timer. Three months, about, with her mother. Then when she finally passed… well, her father had to leave – charity, you know?"

The stranger nodded.

"Anyways, she was left here with her uncle, our science teacher Mr. Walker. Good man. But like I said – it's only for a semester."

"I'm so sorry. If I don't see her today, give Miss Walker my regards, won't you? She's had a rough year."

"Will do, sir, will do. Now would you look at these hash browns? Our cook – delicious!"

I left my place in line and sat down at an empty table. There was a seat open at my friends' table, but I needed to think, not talk. The talking would come later.

So… Jillian's mom didn't die in a car crash. She died of cancer.

It wasn't a huge lie, I told myself. It's not like it changed the course of her life, or mine, or our meeting. A death was a death. God, I sounded so shallow. But really. Did it mean anything?

Not the lie, per say, but I couldn't shake off this feeling. It wasn't what she said, not what she didn't say, but why she didn't tell me. Why not?

I was glad I skipped the eating part of breakfast. My stomach was started to churn.


	14. Chapter 14

So I lied to Neil. I wasn't meeting a friend.

She was already here.

She had come as soon as she got my letter, which was only a day after I sent it. I had found her in my room when I came back from the meeting, tears dripping down my cheeks and making wet streaks in the dirt that covered my face.

"Isobel!" I cried (and by cried, I mean a cross between actually crying and exclaiming excitedly). "What are you doing here?"

"You told me to come, damn it" she replied. "I think the real question is what the hell is wrong with you?"

Isobel swore frequently and without holding back most of the time, though with me she was sure to omit the more vulgar words. She taught me to swear as well, and though I was still a prick and obsessed with grammar, my words flowed more easily when I was with her. I guess I could just let myself go and not care what she thought.

"Uggghhh," I sighed, sinking into my bed. "Guy trouble." It felt good to say that, never having had any cause for "guy trouble" before, but it still felt dirty and slimy and I just needed it to go away.

"The whole school is guys," she replied. "I wouldn't have accepted anything less." She dropped her strong British accent for a second as she mimicked my American one – "Guy trouble."

I smiled, glad to have my old friend back.

"Now," she said, "I'd love to go on about your problems, really I would, but there's something about your letter that's been bothering me…"

"The guy I've found for you?" I had to force my voice to maintain my American accent, as it always wanted to adopt Isobel's British one when I was around her.

"Exactly," she said. "You know Henley Guys are either gorgeous and jerks or ugly and sweet."

"Or just plain awkward," I said, thinking back to my freshman year when I was taller than most guys in my grade.

"Exactly," she said again. "And I couldn't help but peek around your room…"

"Oh, God, Isobel."

"And I found this picture…" She waved a well-worn Polaroid in front of my face.

I grabbed it from her and found myself staring at all of us – the Dead Poets Society, and me, I suppose. I was smiling with that wide smile that showed all of my perfect teeth (my best feature, in my opinion). My bottom lip kind of curled downward and my nose was scrunched up. My cheeks were red from the cold.

Neil was to my right. Our fingers were interlaced and our shoulders were hunched up. I remembered the day perfectly – it was snowing (as you could oh-so-beautifully see in the photo) and we were all freezing. But our eyes were bright, shining with possibilities.

To our left and right were the other members of the Society. Knox and Todd were shying away from the camera. Charlie was standing, arms crossed, a smirk on his face. Meeks and Cameron posed looking fidgety. Pitts stood separated from us by a little ways, awkwardly tall.

"Take your pick," I said. "All of them are desperate for a girl."

"Hmmmm," she joked. She twirled her finger around. "I choose… that one." She pointed a perfectly pink fingernail at Neil.

"Oh, come off it," I said.

She smiled. "Who was the one you had picked for me?" she asked, grinning devilishly.

"Charlie Dalton," I answered, still smiling. "Cocky asshole, but really sweet." I pointed him out.

"And hot," she agreed. "Now before I run over to his room and take my clothes off, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

I laughed, partly because Isobel could make me laugh no matter what she said, and partly because she was as much a virgin as I was.

"It's gotten a bit more complicated since I wrote to you," I said. "Hence the tears."

"Tell me everything," she commanded, and I did.

I told her about how I loved Neil, and how I felt like he loved me too but I couldn't tell him, and how we weren't even supposed to be dating, and how I needed to tell someone – tell a girl – how I was feeling, and oh yeah, did I mention that I got my first kiss? But then I totally blew up because Knox thinks he's in love with Chris but I can't tell him not to date her without telling them about Chet which I can't do, and I've already lied about my mom and I can't keep so many things from them.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Why not what?"

"Why can't you tell them the truth?"

"About what?"

"Your mom, Chet, you know."

"Shit, I don't know."

We sat in silence for a few minutes.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow," I finally decided. "I'll tell him everything."

"Sounds like a plan," she said. "Now let's go to sleep. It's already 12 and I've been stuck in this room for hours waiting for you."

…

When we woke up, Isobel spent what seemed like hours but was probably only about thirty minutes "getting ready." To her this meant makeup and the perfect outfit, though since coming to Welton I had pretty much given up on my appearance. I wanted to just pick my rumpled uniform off the ground and stick some deodorant on and be out the door, but Isobel stopped me. "Wait," she said. "I need to look perfect."

"You always look perfect," I said, and it was true. She was beautiful. With her gorgeous face and figure and loud personality, I always felt so dull and out of place next to her. But she loved me, and I loved her, so we evened out.

"Yes, but how am I supposed to look good when I'm standing next to my best friend and she looks like she just got released from the hospital?"

"You'll look even better compared to me," I said, attempting to drag her out the door. My stomach growled.

"Oh, come off it," she replied. "We _both_ have to look hot if we want to make a scene."

I had no desire to make a scene, and personally, I didn't think I looked that bad. I had pulled up my shirt higher than normal so that the hem was brushing my knees, and instead of my usual pigtails, which came to remind me of a kindergarten girl obsessed with pink, I pulled it back into a loose braid.

"Let's get you fixed up," she said, and pulled me into the bathroom.


	15. Chapter 15

I had given into peer pressure and was sitting with my friends. I was planning on staying mad at Jillian for a few days, at least. That all disappeared when she walked through the dining hall doors. It was impossible to ignore her. And her friend.

"Shit, Jillian looks hot," Charlie commented, not bothering to keep his voice down. "And who's that girl with her? Damn."

Jillian and her friend sat down next to us, smiling. Jillian looked nervous and refused to meet my eyes.

"Hey, guys," she said, looking at Knox. "I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry about what happened last night. I can explain later, when we have time. It was totally an overreaction. And I'm sorry."

None of said anything. I think Knox may have nodded in approval.

"Thanks," Jillian said gratefully. "Oh, uh, guys, this is Isobel. She's my best friend from Henley."

"Hey Isobel," we all said in unison.

"And Isobel, this is Charlie," she added, smiling shyly as if they had some sort of hilarious inside joke but she wasn't sure if she wanted to reveal it us just yet. "The one I, uh, told you about."

"Damn," Isobel said to Charlie. "You're even more attractive in person."

"Thanks?" Charlie said, and I laughed. Normally I didn't see Charlie get flustered. Isobel's cockiness seemed a perfect match for his.

Everyone talked and Isobel and Charlie flirted. I was mostly staying out of the conversations, when Jillian gently touched my hand.

"Hey, can I talk to you? Do you want to go somewhere?"

I nodded. "Sure. Umm… do you want to head upstairs?"

"Yeah." She turned to Isobel. "Hey, I need to, uh, go talk with Neil. You're in good hands, though."

We headed upstairs, walking awkwardly side by side, but it didn't feel like we were walking together. I swung my hand to the right and it gently hit hers, but instead of grabbing it, Jillian pulled hers back. I kept my head down and the silence got even denser.

"I need to talk to you." Wow. Was I that cliché? It sounded like I was about to announce that we should break up. Or that I was pregnant.

"About what?" Neil asked, settling into his bed. I wanted to sit next to him so badly, but I knew that if I did I would just want to push him down to the bed and lie down on top of him and just forget this whole business, and I couldn't have that. I sat down on Todd's bed instead.

"The truth," I answered. I could have sworn I saw his face darken. Shit. I didn't… I didn't want this. I just wanted us to be happy again like we were when we were first together. But even then I was lying, breaking rules. I searched my memories for the lies, why I started, when, but it didn't come to me. Maybe _I_ was the sociopath, not Chris. Maybe I didn't deserve Neil, or any guy at all for that matter. Neil was so nice, he didn't need this. But he put up with it. He wanted me. I could tell by the way he smiled when I talked and looked at me when he thought I wasn't watching. Maybe he loved me, as much as I loved him.

"Yeah?" Neil said after a long pause. He was waiting for me, but words didn't come.

"My mom…" I started. "She… she didn't die in a car crash. She, uh… she had cancer."

Pause. Look at him. Search his face. Disappointment? No. Anger? No. Hate? No. So then what? Why wasn't he answering?

"Why didn't you tell me?" Now it came. Hurt. Betrayal. Sadness. Confusion.

I was silent. I couldn't say anything. It was like when Chet approached me at the bus stop – I was searching for words I couldn't find.

But Neil didn't leave. And so I found them.

"I just couldn't. It just brought back so many painful memories, and I didn't want to bring them up again. I didn't want to be reminded of them. I didn't want… I didn't want you to be associated with them. I didn't want to see you in the morning and think of him."

"Him?"

Shit. "Them."

"You said 'him'."

I paused again. "Neil," I began. "I really like you, and I don't want to keep secrets from you. I don't want to not want to tell you things."

"Is this all about a guy?"

"If by guy you mean you, then yes…?" I smiled innocently, tried to breathe some life back into the conversation. It didn't work.

"Come on, Jillian."

I took a deep breath. "I had a bad year, last year, okay? My mom was diagnosed with leukemia. And then… well, I was in a bad place, and then I met Chet."

Neil inhaled. "You mean Chet Danbury, the guy who Knox is convinced is an idiot who doesn't deserve Chris?"

"That's the one."

"So that's why…"

"Why I've been blowing up at Knox for the past few weeks? Yeah, that's why."

Neil thought for a moment.

"So did you guys ever… date, or anything?"

"Oh, no," I said. "We were just friends. But, then one day…"

I told him about his mom dying, about me not being able to say anything, about Chris, and Chet trying to talk to me when he found out, about me not being happy until I came here, until I met him.

"I wanted to tell you, I really did," I said. "But it was just too hard to talk about." I noticed I was crying.

Neil crossed the floor at sat down next to me. I thought he was going to wipe away my tears, all romantic, but instead he leaned into me until I fell to the pillows and kissed my forehead. Then my nose. Then my lips. It was pure bliss, believe me, but I couldn't. I just couldn't.

I broke away and sat up as much as I could with him lying on top of me. "You're not mad?"

He looked at me, his weight still pressing down on my chest. It hurt my abs to keep sitting up, and it reminded me of our PE class. "Not really," he answered slowly, and my stomach muscles burned. "I mean, no. I'm frustrated, I'm confused. But…" He shook his head, unable to say anything (I knew the feeling), and leaned forward kissed me again.

This time, I kissed him back.


	16. Chapter 16

**This is a short chapter, I guess, but I was going to combine it with something else but it just got *way* too long. **

**Oh and by the way, I don't have no life. I'm not just sitting here typing out all these chapters. Well, I kind of am, but I had like three of them already on my computer, I just had to edit them. So I'm not totally uncool :D **

**Oh and by the way the next two chapters (this one and the next one – especially the next one) might be kinda "mature". I don't really know… I'd read all these FanFics and I felt kinda pressured to add a "mature" scene – basically a bunch of making out. Unfortunately I don't think I'm a good enough writer to add a sex scene, even though I feel like a lot of the more popular FanFics have one. Maybe later… I don't know. It's not very good… I'm in the process of writing it now.**

**This is how I spend my first day of summer. I'm cool, right? :D**

Was it just me or was Jillian totally hot? Girls always say that they want to be called "beautiful" instead of "hot", but trust me, Jillian had plenty of both. I lay on top of her, grabbing her soft hair and pressing my lips against hers, and all I could feel was her grabbing my hair and her body under me, warm and moving up and down, up and down.

I didn't tell her about how I already knew that her mom died of cancer. I had just heard about it through eavesdropping anyways. It's not like I looked it up or something. It wasn't important. I didn't want to ruin her good feeling of finally getting the truth out.

"Hey," she said, pausing for a second. She looked up at me. "I need to tell you something else, while we're at it."

"Go ahead," I answered as I rolled off Jillian but still faced her, suddenly scared again. All this… truth… was starting to freak me out. Or at least the anticipation was. She could just as easily say "I'm just using you for your father's connections" as she could "My favorite color is red." I just never knew.

"I lied to you… again," she said. Or rather, whispered. No, that wasn't it. She didn't say it loudly but it wasn't quite a whisper. Just really low. "I mean, I didn't. I just didn't tell you the truth… Nolan specifically told me I wasn't allowed to date anyone. If that's what we're doing. Dating."

I laughed at that. I guess we hadn't really discussed it or anything. Everyone just kind of accepted it.

"I guess that's what we're doing," I answered. "If you want."

"I'd like that," she smiled, and hooked her feet around mine and pulled herself closer to me. A shiver went up my spine. "But back to what I was originally saying…"

"Yeah, of course," I said.

"I just don't want you to get into trouble."

"Don't worry," I said. "We'll play it by ear. It'll all work out."

"You think?" she asked, and I pulled her in even tighter so that our noses were touching.

"I know."


	17. Chapter 17

**I guess it's kinda long, and kinda "mature," but I don't know… hopefully you guys will like it. I'm really not very good at this kind of thing. As you can probably tell, I like more of the flow of the words when I write, so that's what I'm focused on (but I'll admit, this isn't exactly my best chapter). I hope you enjoy it!**

We had been gone for about thirty minutes. I wondered what the others were thinking. That we were fighting? That we were breaking up? Making out? Or even… whatever. Who cares what they thought. I was just… enjoying myself.

Crap. That didn't make me a slut, did it? I mean, I was seventeen. I was allowed to make out with my boyfriend. I was allowed to grab his hair, and take his shirt off if I wanted to, and feel the muscles in his neck as he kissed me - long, passionate kisses that made me numb.

And it's not like we were having… sex, right? Obviously we weren't. I shouldn't have been embarrassed to think of it. Honestly, I wouldn't have minded doing it. Wow. That was a stupid thing to think. Why did I think that? I mean… well, I wanted it to be Neil. If he wanted me, of course.

Then again, that raised the question – when was he going to tell me he loved me? I couldn't sleep with a guy until he told me that. And meant it. And I for sure loved him, so there wouldn't be a problem. There's nothing wrong with two seventeen year olds losing their virginity.

Wait. What if Neil wasn't a virgin?

Why was this so complicated? Why couldn't I just be like Isobel, joking around about it all the time? "You style your hair?" she would say to a guy. "Excuse me while I undress myself." "You play soccer?" "You've read Tolstoy?" "You speak three languages?" "You actually care about girls?" "You don't want sex, only a relationship?" "You don't want a relationship, only sex? Just give me a moment while I unbutton my ridiculously low-cut top in front of you, eh?"

I mean, they were only jokes. She'd never done anything. But I just wished I could be as comfortable as she was.

Neil was kissing my whole face, my neck, my arms, my chest. His hands crept up under my shirt and lifted it off of me. I felt exposed, but I didn't care - all I wanted was Neil. I pulled him in closer, and we lay there, forehead to forehead, staring at each other. Maybe I was subconsciously aware that we were both shirtless, but if I was, I didn't react to it. At least, not until Neil started tracing the path down to my stomach with his lips, starting at my chin, tracing my throat, collarbone, lightly kissing the exposed skin in the middle of my bra, down, down, down to my bellybutton. I giggled and rolled him over so that I was on top and I did the same.

It had been forty-five minutes. I hoped that the door was locked. I hoped that Charlie and Isobel weren't doing the same thing we were. I hoped that no one would come looking for us, or worse, find us, here, me in my bra and skirt and hair all frizzy and Neil without a shirt on, tickling my stomach with his teeth. I hoped it would all work out, like Neil said it would.

All of a sudden I became aware that Neil's hands were on my bra. His lips were sucking my neck, which was sure to result in a hickey that I would not very subtly have to cover up tomorrow, but his hands were fumbling with the clasp, hot and sweaty and frustrated. I pulled away and looked at his face. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. It kind of seemed like he was feeling pressured to do this, to go all the way with me or something. I had this irrational fear that it was all a game, a bet made up by his friends. I knew that wasn't true, of course, but I couldn't help but feel like something was up. This wasn't the way it was supposed to feel, supposed to go.

I pulled away. "Hey, wait," I said, unsure of how to stop him. Thankfully he let go without me having to say anything else. He was so nice.

I sat up. We were silent again, and Neil slowly got off of me and sat down to my right. I held my elbows up to cover my exposed skin. I missed the feeling of his hands on my chest and stomach and legs and hair. But… it didn't feel right. I trusted myself to not do something that I knew I'd regret later.

"That was fun," I said, and Neil barked out a single laugh. "Yeah, it was," he agreed.

We lapsed into silence again.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "I was too… fast, I guess. I guess I just got caught up or something."

"No, it wasn't that," I said. "I mean, it was. I'm not… _not ready._ It's just not the right time. Yet."

"The right time?"

I couldn't tell him that the right time would come after he announced his undying love for me, that he couldn't live without my beautiful personality and charming laugh and all the great things about me that he would list in order of most sexy to most sweet. Because that was a fairy tale, a daydream that I couldn't voice out loud.

"Like, not at eight in the morning while everyone's wondering where we are."

"Oh," he said, grinning. "That kind of time."

Maybe he knew what I meant. Maybe he was waiting for the perfect time to tell me he loved me, like the perfect proposal or the perfect surprise birthday gift.

"And other kinds of times too," I said, smiling back. "Like, when I'm emotionally ready. When I'm certain that I want to go through with it. It's a big step, you know."

"Oh, I know," he agreed, still smiling. "You seem to know a lot about it. Have you, uh, ever… taken such a step before?"

I had to laugh. Neil was asking _me_ if I was a virgin. "No, I haven't," I answered. "What… what about you?"

"Never," he said, and we both tried to hide our relief.

It was strange how we were talking about this so logically. And, I realized with some sort of weird satisfaction, without ever outright saying what we were talking about. Other couples might talk about sex all the time, but we could do it without saying the word sex, so I think we were a step up.

"We should probably go back down," I said. "I've barely eaten anything and everyone's probably wondering where we are."

"Breakfast's over," Neil said, and I looked at the clock. He was right.

"Crap," I said. "Class starts in five minutes."

"Hmm," he said, grinning. "What should we do for five minutes?"

"Well," I said. "If I _didn't_ have a totally hot boyfriend, I would say that we should probably get there early to get ready for class."

"But…?"

"But since I _do_ have a totally hot boyfriend, I may as well spend some time with him." We both smiled widely, and he leaned in so that our teeth clacked together gently.

I spent the next ten minutes lying in bed with him, staring into his eyes and talking about random and unimportant things. Then I spent the next five minutes getting dressed for class.

It was the first time I had been late to class, but it was worth it.


End file.
